A Total Eclipse

[Dawnbreak]

"Could there be a more foul sort of weather?" The man asked himself quietly as his sword cut through dead shrubbery, scattering snow every which way and into his face, his irritation growing ever deeper as he let out an angered, clenched breath, his nostrils flaring. Clearing the way in the wilds is the work of rangers, of woodsmen; not of city folk. And thus, he let out a stream of cusses, cursing every ranger to walk these forests, every man and woman of the wilds that did not tend to the thrice-damned overgrowth, for such was his view - it was their responsibility, universally, and they are to blame for his difficult journey. All he needed to see in addition would be a group of goblins making their way through this woodland realm, or perhaps worse enemies, ones he could not stand against even if he wished to.

Though he pressed on, knowing that his destination this day was important, one that perhaps would establish his presence in the region for a good time... if he can manage to ever get there.

For his query was the Shrine of the Morninglord along the Laviguer Road, to repeat a well practiced lie, one that he has spun around in the streets of Sarshel for a few days now, and one that he practiced to near perfection at every turn he could make - that he is Dawnbringer Crane of Lathander, coming from Thesk to aid the High Dawnlord in these troubling times of everwinter.

He could not help but wonder, along the way, if it were indeed the better route; surely his comrades, for many of them have sprouted in the Realms of late, would be present in this land. Perhaps he could, instead, deal with the cutthroats and madmen he would have usually seen back home. But would the annoyance to come along with it be worth it? The possibility that one might not take kindly to the newcomer? Would it not be an even greater risk to his being? The likely answer to him would be a definitive no. Best to deal with the naive and trusting, than those with knives aimed at his back at every turn. Best, that he held the knife.

When the shrine's mound finally came to view, the man could not help but smile to himself, a smile overflowing with hubris and sardonicism - the sight was a place to be conquered, its attendants spun around in the webbing that was being constantly churned by every single word to come out of his mouth, and the reward for this conquest would lead to the road wherein lay his one want;

Power.

The Morninglord's light will not shine over blackened hearts.